When I reached page 676 of Michael Cox's new novel The Meaning of Night: A Confession, my heart began to pound and I didn't stop to catch my breath. The last time I had this kind of reaction to a novel, Mr. Rochester was in the drawing room confessing his love for Jane Eyre. Although Cox cleverly keeps his two principles--Edward Glyver and Phoebus Rainsford Daunt--physically apart for the bulk of the novel, he masterfully binds their fates by spinning around these two young men a web of Victorian mystery, betrayal, and murder, so when the two meet face to face at the conclusion of the book, the climatic moment and its aftermath are deeply satisfying for the reader.

The "confession" of the title refers to the novel's construction as the recounting of the personal past of protagonist Edward Glyver as confessed to his friend Willoughby Le Grice regarding what Edward describes as "the extraordinary circumstances of my birth; the character and designs of my enemy; and the futile passion that has made it impossible that I can never love again." If this sounds melodramatic, it's because the reader is knee-deep in melodrama in the best sense of the word. Cox's book possesses all the hallmarks of a classic Victorian page-turner that's part mystery, part thriller, part epic tale of love and betrayal.

As a young man, Edward GlyverÑwho spends most of his adult life under the pseudonym of Edward GlapthorneÑdiscovers that poet and ingratiating fop Phoebus Rainsford Daunt is about to inherit the noble title of Lord Tansor that was taken from Edward at birth. This act of sly deception is set in motion when the boys meet at Eton when Edward is a rising scholar but unaware that his mother, Lady Tansor, gave him away at birth to be raised by her friend Simona in a small house on the English coast. Meanwhile, the young Phoebus had become a substitute son for Lord Tansor, thanks to his stepmother's ambitions, and is sent to Eton to fulfill his promise. When Phoebus meets Edward at school and begins to suspect that this brilliant but poor friend is connected to the noble family with whom he is winning favor, he sets out to disgrace Edward and ensure that his old school friend will ever know and be able to claim what is rightfully his.

Edward's confession traces his gradual uncovering of the truth of his parentage and his desperate search to prove and claim his birthright before Phoebus can silence him forever. The novel features a number of twists and turns that revive plot devices that were prevalent in British nineteenth-century novels: tear-stained letters, secret diaries, obscure witnesses, coincidental meetings, mistaken identities, and unexpected discoveries. The author carefully wields these familiar Victorian tropes while giving his protagonist an engaging narrative voice that treats readers a detailed, carefully researched view of everyday life in nineteenth-century England. Traveling from the shadowy streets of London, to the leaf-strewn campus of Eton, to the drawing rooms of a country estate, readers are treated to glimpses of period meals, books, clothing and morals and manners that enhance, rather than distract from, the plot unfolding before them.

Writing like the love child of Charlotte Bronte and Charles Dickens, Cox populates his novel with memorable major players and quirky minor characters who are never quite what they seem and yet feel comfortably familiar playing the role they are destined to play in a potboiler that simmers at an atmospheric, slow boil until it spills over artfully, keeping this reader up way past her usual bedtime.